A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
by crinklefries
Summary: Chuck's life has just shattered; he's lost the world he has known for so long. Who better to piece him together than Blair Waldorf herself? Chuck/Blair. Angst & Romance. Spoiler for Episode 2x13, "Oh Brother Where Bart Thou?".


**Title:** _A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes_  
**Author:** Zee  
**For:** inkstained Livejournal for Gossip Girl Santa

**Fandom:** Gossip Girl [TV]  
**Characters/Ships:** Chuck/Blair  
**Word Count:** 4,151  
**Spoilers:** Through the end of 2x13; "Oh Brother Where Bart Thou?"  
**Rating:** PG - PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I am not Cecily von Ziegesar or a CW exec and I do not own Gossip Girl or any of the characters. Just the fic itself and not a thing more. : (

There had never been words lost between the two of them. She had told him, hadn't she? She was Blair and he was Chuck and he was Chuck and she was Blair. Together, they were Chuck and Blair, nothing more, nothing less. Chuck and Blair had no need of declarations of love. They were not like the Serenas and Dans of the world. They had no need for trivial, romantic dates and hand holding in public and kissing while walking down the dark New York streets or expressions of _I care about you_ and _I want to be with you_ and _Please don't leave me_. What Blair and Chuck needed were not verbalizations, but the more subtle indications of a love so deep and so twisted, that it had twined them together closely, dangerously, and neither of them knew how to extricate themselves from it without shattering the other. A teasing touch here, a whisper in her ear there, a game played that wound round and round, keeping each of them directly bound to the other, whether they realized it or not.

The day Blair decided to change that, she had done it not for her or for them, but for _him_ and him alone. There was a different between a trashed Chuck Bass and a _trashed_ Chuck Bass and Blair had seen him for the latter. For the son who had lost his father, strained though their relationship had been. For the boy who had lost his inspiration, the one person he had always aspired to be and impress. But most of all, for the broken, shattered human being who no longer had a family to call his own. Blair could have been his family. Somewhere, beneath the sarcasm, the deception, and the twisted games, that was all she had ever _wanted_, or something similar to it, but that day she had wanted nothing more than to be a Serena or a Dan of the world and wrap her arms around Chuck Bass and tell him that she _did_ love him and he _wasn't_ alone in this godforsaken world. She knew, though, that she would never be the girl to do that; not with him, never with him, but she _had_ tried and she had thought that would be enough.

She had left the wake without a second thought, following the one person who knew her for who and what she was, hoping she could do the same for him. Each time he slipped out of her sight, she could feel the subtle desperation creeping up through her chest, suffocating her with a fear that if she let him slip away, he would never come back to her again. How he had come to be her air, she did not know, and perhaps never would, but he was her Chuck and it frightened her to imagine what Blair would be like without him. So she ran and she hurried and she jabbed the elevator button, hoping and praying that it would grant her speed just this once. And then, somehow, she caught him, just before he had slipped into the car, to leave himself, this world, and her far, far behind.

"_Chuck_!" she had called, but one deadened, hopeless, _disgusted_ look from him and she knew that this wouldn't work. This would never work. In this moment, she could not be the Blair who held the upper hand, nor the Blair who would hold the prize above Chuck's head in order to preserve what pride and dignity at being _Blair Waldorf_ she had. She could not play the game they always played because to play the game would be to lose him and then there would be no game left to play at all. So she did the one thing she _could_ do and hoped that it would be enough for now.

"I don't want you to go," she said and her voice echoed through her mind and body, making an admission she had promised to never make.

"Why?" he had asked, and the look he gave her was not one of hopelessness or anger, but of pure _disdain_.

What else could Blair have said in this scenario, when the chips were in his hands entirely and she had to sacrifice everything she had ever had to hold onto the one thing she had always wanted?

"_I'm me. And you're you. We're Chuck and Blair. Blair and Chuck. The worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had. I will stand by you through anything,_" she had said, grabbing his cold, cold face between both of her hands, but that was not enough and she knew it, both because the disdain was still present in his eyes and because she could feel the lack of an answer resounding through her very soul. So she answered and in answering, she was willing to risk the entire game itself. "_Because. I love you._"

And she had said those words, hoped that they would be enough. Hoped that by letting him win, letting him hear what he had wanted and needed to hear all along, they could be Serena and Dan or Nate and Vanessa or Eleanor and Cyrus. But they weren't Serena or Dan, Nate or Vanessa, Eleanor or Cyrus. They were Chuck and Blair and it was because of that very definition that his eyes hardened and he pulled his away and spoke the words that ended the game completely and, with it, Blair's heart.

"_Well that's too bad_."

///

There had never been any words lost between the two of them. She had been Blair and he had been Chuck and together they had been Blair and Chuck and Chuck and Blair. So when Dorota had leaned over, after Eleanor had said _I do_ and Blair's heart was in a tangled, bloodied mess of sharp edges and serrated jags, she had no need for words. When she had left the wedding party, walked into her room and saw him there, sitting on her bed, with broken eyes and a broken face and a broken soul, there was nothing she _could_ say and nothing she _wanted_ to say, because words were not what Chuck Bass had needed at the moment. Chuck Bass had always had words, had plenty to spare even when he had used every single one in his arsenal, and had always heard words; indeed those were, or had been, the only things ever exchanged between himself and his father. So Chuck Bass did not need words right now and although Lily had tried and Nate had tried and Serena had tried and Eric had tried, Blair knew not to try because who knew Chuck Bass better than Blair Waldorf?

So she had said nothing at all, had wrapped her arms around him instead, and she refused to let herself cry for him because Chuck Bass did not need tears either. What Chuck Bass needed was a family, another body, and another soul to understand him and him alone and that was the only thing Blair could give him at that moment, as the sands of time froze and ivy grew around a scene of two strained, broken hearts, attempting to beat through the loss of lives and worlds.

For his part, Chuck had said nothing either. Had chosen to sit in the broken remains of his life and the world he had known for so long, arm eventually wrapping itself around Blair because she had become his bastion and he had never known when or how until this very moment.

And so they had sat on Blair's bed, frozen in time and thought and heartache, until one or the other soothed them both down and then it all Blair could do was keep her arms around him as he fell into a miserable, uneasy sleep, and she didn't because every time she closed her eyes, she had a dreadful feeling, in the pit of her stomach, that he wouldn't be there when she opened them again.

Blair opened her eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the expensive curtains, her heart somersaulting as she realized that her arms were not empty, as she had feared they would be when her emotional strain had eventually lulled her into an exhausted sleep. Chuck Bass was still lying next to her, as broken and lost as he had been the night before, but he was still _there_, which at least gave Blair the chance to try and fix him. She moved slightly, attempting to reposition her arms around him without waking him, but he was already awake. There was the soft creak of the bed as he turned himself and then he was staring at her, with those same big, broken eyes, which hardly looked less bloodshot than the night before. If he had slept at all, his face didn't show it. She said nothing for the moment, knowing that even now Chuck Bass had no need for words, and he said nothing in return, but in the silence she could hear how his heart kept missing a beat, as though it had forgotten how to function normally.

She reached forward and gently pushed his bangs out of his eyes, wondering if her soft touch might break him, because he really did look that terrifyingly breakable, but instead, she felt his hand reach up and cover hers and it was a gesture of comfort and subtle thanks.

"Chuck," Blair said softly and leaned forward. "I will stand by you through anything."

And then Blair closed the distance and kissed him and it was different from all of the other kisses they had ever shared; it was neither teasing nor fleeting, manipulative nor jealous. There was no ulterior motive behind the kiss—it was just what it was; a soft, subtle, and completely meaningful kiss, with the hope that it would slowly be able to string the little pieces of Chuck Bass back together, even if he refused. But whether it was because he still had his father in mind or because he was so fully, just this once, giving in to the reality that even _Chuck Bass_ can be vulnerable, he didn't pull away. He let him kiss her and Blair knew that, with time, he might even return the favor.

///

"You have to eat something," Blair said, staring at him critically over a bowl of fruits.

Chuck said nothing, giving her the same deadpanned stare she had been getting for the past week.

"Chuck, you aren't God. _Eat something_," Blair said again, and she could hardly contain the annoyance in her voice.

Seven days he had been like this. For seven days Chuck Bass hadn't said a word, hadn't eaten anything properly, and hadn't even bathed himself when Blair didn't call Nate to come and help. For seven days, Chuck Bass had acted like a dead man himself. Blair Waldorf had given him seven days. Today was Day Eight. And she was determined that he should finally start to move forward with his life.

"Charles Bass, neither Dorota nor I are spoon-feeding you again. Either eat your breakfast or go hungry. God, like I care."

Chuck said nothing and, for all of her efforts, Blair received that exact same, deadened look from him. It irritated her, as many things did, but Blair decided she would not let it get to her. Not today. So today, Chuck Bass went without breakfast. And Blair Waldorf decided that she did not really care.

///

"I have to go to a fitting," Blair commented, fixing her headband so that it sat perfectly on top of her neatly combed hair. "I would ask you to come, but your general affliction of being, well, a _male_ hinders this. If I leave you here, will you promise not to set the house on fire? Or at least leave the premise just after you do so you don't burn with it?"

Once more, Chuck said nothing. Blair sighed, keeping her temper in check. Day Nine. She would not give in so easily to his stubbornness. Blair patted her hair, gave herself another glance in the mirror and turned back to Chuck, a smile on her face.

"I'm going to take your silence as an assent."

She walked towards her bed and picked up the plaid pea coat she had laid out for herself. She slipped it on and ignored the way that Chuck was looking at her through blank, expressionless eyes.

"I've told Dorota to make a lunch for you at exactly 12:30. She will make it and set it on the table. If you're hungry, eat it. If you're not, then don't."

Blair gave herself another look in the mirror, gave Chuck another _glare_, and then left.

When she returned, later that evening, the lunch was still sitting on the table, untouched and icy cold.

///

"Serena, I don't know what to do with him," Blair said worriedly, sprawling across her own bed. The TV at the end of the room had _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ playing and Blair had a cell phone stuck to her ear. Where Chuck was, she had no idea. Probably sulking in another room. "When I told him that I would always stand by him, I didn't mean as a _babysitter_."

"I didn't know love had such a limited definition, B," Serena replied, laughing on the other end of the line.

"It _doesn't_, but I'm not his _caretaker_ and I can't be forever," the brunette replied, chewing on her bottom lip. On screen, Audrey Hepburn looked longingly at George Peppard.

"You're supposed to take care of the ones you love," came Serena's answer. Blair heard a giggle in the background and rolled her eyes. The blonde was probably sitting at the beach with that brooding, tortured artist of a boyfriend of hers who, coincidentally, also happened to be Blair's new stepbrother.

"_That_ only applies if the ones you love haven't completely isolated themselves and refused to speak, sleep, shower, or eat."

There came a quick silence on the other end, followed by Serena's surprised voice.

"He hasn't been eating?"

"Lord knows I've _tried_, S," Blair said. "I have fed him, Dorota's fed him, hell, even _Cyrus_ has offered to feed him. Then I tried tough love and told him I didn't care if he ate, but he still refuses to _listen_."

"Blair," Serena said, her voice actually genuine this time. "Chuck just lost his father. He's lost the only family he's ever had. Give him some time. Even Chuck Bass has a heart."

Blair said nothing to that, choosing to sit in a huffy silence instead.

"Give him time, B. When he's ready, he'll come to you."

_Fat chance_, Blair thought morosely. If she knew Chuck Bass at all, she would be force-feeding him peaches and strawberries until the day she died.

///

Another week passed, with barely any improvement. Blair had tried all she could to coax Chuck out of his mood. It was strangely unlike Chuck Bass to be so completely _unresponsive_ and broody to boot. Chuck Bass was anything but. He was sharp and intelligent and witty and sarcastic and mean and a complete and utter _asshole_. He wasn't the type to sulk or brood and he _certainly_ wasn't a mute. But although Blair had tried to feed him and dress him and love him and then, eventually, be harsh and completely Waldorf with him, he remained in the same unresponsive, listless condition.

Day Sixteen and Blair Waldorf was just about ready to give up.

She sighed, sitting at the dinner table alone. Eleanor and Cyrus had chosen to eat out tonight, Dorota had the day off, Serena was still in Argentina, and Blair had nobody else. Nobody that she really wanted to do anything with, anyway. Dorota had left her and Chuck some dinner, although Blair had insisted that making some for Chuck was a complete _waste_ of time unless Dorota had an entire bottle of Vodka to donate in its place, and Blair was, of course, eating it all by herself at the large dinner table. She could have taken it to her room and eaten it while watching Audrey, but that was not the civilized way to eat dinner and, besides, Blair had had more of Audrey's perfect, glamorous life in the past two weeks than she could really handle. As though life was that annoyingly glittering and perfect.

So instead, she sat at the long, empty dinner table, wearing a nice dress and the necklace that Chuck had given her for her previous birthday, forcing the food around on her plate. It was funny how tasteless things seemed lately. Even when Dorota made her favorite food, Blair didn't really want to eat it. She was sure that Chuck Bass had _something_ to do with it, but she couldn't figure out quite what. Unfortunately, he was still too mute for her to attempt to, so she settled for half-eating and half-sighing her dinner away.

And that was when she looked up and noticed the other figure staring at her from the entranceway into the dining room. It sent a chill through her, since she hadn't expected to see him standing there, but it took only a few seconds for her to realize that something was different about Chuck tonight. He seemed better composed somehow. His eyes had a bare hint of life in them and his clothes were actually _fresh_.

"What?" Blair asked and she couldn't tell if her voice was too harsh or too soft. Maybe a bit of both.

Chuck said nothing for a moment and Blair was ready to go back to her meal, when he finally, _finally_ spoke.

"Can I join you?"

Blair said nothing for a minute, as she digested what had just happened. Then she nodded.

"Let me warm up your food."

Sure that he would have disappeared by the time she came back with his food, Blair was surprised to find him actually sitting at the table right next to her place. She set down his place of warm food in front of him and a goblet of red wine too, just because. Chuck said nothing and Blair, in return, said nothing, choosing to go back and sit at her place instead.

They ate in silence, hearing nothing but the other's breathing and the occasional chewing. Blair was unsure what to think, but decided this was probably a good thing. Chuck had come to her of his own free will and, what was more, he was eating on his own. Even if he chose not to say anything else, she would take this as a sign that—

"Thank you."

Blair looked up from her food in surprise. She stared at him and blinked.

"Thank you," Chuck repeated once and said nothing more.

Another moment of silence and then Blair answered.

"You're welcome."

She took another bite of her food and realized that, somehow, it suddenly tasted a lot better.

///

Sixteen days. It had taken Chuck sixteen days to finally come to terms with his new life and it had taken Blair sixteen days to realize that she probably would have waited sixteen more for this moment, if Chuck had needed that long.

She closed the door behind them and immediately felt Chuck's hands cup her face. It was different, the way he was handling her. At least this once, he was holding her as though she was fragile; a treasure that he had found instead of a prize that he had won at the carnival. He returned that same kiss she had given him sixteen days ago; a deep one full of words and meanings that they would never say aloud. His hands slid to her shoulders and they both stumbled backwards onto the bed, Chuck returning Blair's words, without actually verbalizing his own, and Blair accepting them. It was the end of a story and a beginning of a story. And not Audrey Hepburn herself could have written it otherwise.

hr

Blair opened her eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the expensive curtains. The scene played out much as it had before, as though she had already lived through this day once, in another lifetime and another world. Chuck, she knew, would be there, safe and warm under her arms. She would move and he would move and he would be broken, but she would help fix him, for even though she was not a mechanic, she was Blair Waldorf and she was equipped with everything that was needed to fix Chuck Bass. She knew that he would turn as soon as she stirred and his eyes would be heavy with loss and grief, but she would take his face in her hands and kiss him so deeply that he would never have reason to fear that he was alone ever again.

Her heart settled because this was the end of that story, and the beginning of theirs, and it would play out just as it had in her once, far-away dream, because she willed it to be so and if Blair Waldorf could not will her life to be the perfect replica of an Audrey Hepburn movie, then no one else could ever have the shadow of a chance to.

So she moved slowly, painstakingly slowly, and reached her arms out as she had before, expecting and knowing the warmth that would be there.

But it wasn't there. She spread her fingers and felt for where Chuck _should_ have been, in his tousled vest and shirt, with messy hair, and cold warm skin. But he wasn't there. None of him was _there_.

Blair sat up in her bed quickly, heart pounding and mind spinning to try and come to terms with what she was refusing to acknowledge. That what she had seen, what she had lived through, had been nothing more than a dream, a midsummer night's dream, something penned by Shakespeare himself and without a touch of reality to make it come true. Where Chuck should have been, there was nothing but rumpled sheets and a letter, left on unblemished, white paper; the only pure thing Chuck had ever left in his wake.

With trembling hands and unbelieving eyes, she read what he had left for her,

_I'm sorry for everything._

_You deserve much better._

_Don't come looking for me._

_-Chuck_

Her eyes could see the words, her mind read them, but with her heart she could not seem to understand what it was he had left for her and what it was he was saying.

She deserved more, he said. That much was true. Blair Waldorf would never deny that she deserved more, she _always_ deserved more. But the point was not that she _deserved_ more, but that she wanted _him_ and he was, time and time again, the one thing she could not have. There was a memory in a limo. One drunken night, when all of her barriers were down and she was so heartbroken, so very heartbroken, so very lost and angry and jealous of everything Nate had and every part of Nate that she could never have to herself, and she had found there was something else in this world that she could only have in small doses. That night, she had tasted Chuck. She had tasted him and felt him and through her drunken haze, she had _had_ him. And he had had her. For all intents and purposes, he had had her ever since, although she had never wanted to admit it.

Maybe it was a good thing that she had never let herself realize that. Maybe it was a good thing that she had never let him capture her and had never captured him herself, although she had had plenty of opportunities for both. He had said it best, hadn't he? That was not who they were. They had never been Serena or Dan. They had been Chuck and Blair and the deception, the lust, and the tantalizing games of cat and mouse had defined everything about them that had been good and twisted and completely theirs. Once she had realized that the games were not just games and her feelings were not simply lust and condescension, she had tried and wanted to be the Blair she had been with Nate. The Audrey Hepburn of her own feature film. But Chuck had recognized that that would have killed them, so maybe, just maybe, it was a good thing that she and he never had.

///

He was Chuck and she was Blair and together they were Chuck and Blair and Blair and Chuck. But today, there was none of that and, perhaps, there never would be again. Today, there was no Chuck.

Today, she was just Blair.


End file.
